


Drink with Me

by Kajune



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Michael, Dean Being Dean, First Time, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Content, Top Dean, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajune/pseuds/Kajune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael plus alcohol don't mix. But Michael plus alcohol plus Dean do mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink with Me

Dean is irresistible.

...or so he tells himself.

At least three occurrences have proven Dean to be a resistible man, and it pains him every time just thinking about them. The first time was during high school. He won the heart of a really gorgeous girl, but lost her the minute she caught him with another gorgeous girl. Dean honestly thought he could sweet talk himself back into the first girl's heart, but instead, she brushed him off and roared at him like a vicious storm.

The rest of the school discovered the affair, and Dean was labeled "Not Charming".

The second time was much later, during the Apocalypse to be exact. Sweet, loving Joanna Harvelle, actually turned down a chance to have a glorious last day on Earth with him, when not even an angel was able to resist. Jo brushed him off, with a smile, with a laugh, and Dean tried to do the same.

He **did not** weep that night over the loss.

He also **did not** weep the following night over the loss either.

The third time, was just yesterday.

Dean likes to warm up for Valentine's Day. He visits local bars and hooks up with the most beautiful women he can find. He's never been worried about seducing one, since his looks alone draw women in, but yesterday?

It was the second girl before Valentine's Day. Dean did his best to sweet talk his way into her personal space, made the move of wanting to go in deeper, but his response wasn't full of giggles and inviting gestures. It was a brutal slap to the face, accompanied by a full-blown lecture on why Dean was _not_ the irresistible type.

He was tempted to argue, but the bouncer had other plans.

The shock, embarrassment and the rejection don't hurt him as much as the loss of a friend always does, but it's enough to make him spend the next day alone, eyes glued to an expensive bottle of wine he bought. He looks like he's sulking, and that's because he is. The sulking worsens when Sam doesn't answer his phone and Castiel is apparently ignoring his prayers.

He supposes the angel is having fun with Balthazar.

He dares not assume doing what, exactly.

Out of options, since Bobby is not one to comfort a guy and Gabriel would just tease him until his death, Dean is tempted to just whack himself over the head until the bottle cracks and falls to pieces and hopefully they'll get stuck in his brain.

He's that much sad.

Dean is pouring himself a glass when the sound of fluttering wings captures his attention. Never mind that he's spilling the contents now, there's Michael standing in his motel room, looking like he just got hit by a train.

Unlikely, since a train isn't as sturdy as an archangel.

But he'd been lying if he said Michael didn't look incredibly disheveled.

"Hello..." Michael stumbles. "...Winchester."

Dean regards with him with a confused look. He was almost convinced Michael had a thing for his name, considering how many times he uses it. Only ever once did he call him a "maggot". Something must really be wrong in the angel's head at the moment, for only the surname to come out.

Maybe a comet hit him. Sounds plausible.

"Buttercup."

Michael blinks once, blinks twice, blinks ten times in just two seconds. Then his posture stiffens, his expression hardens, and back comes that air of superiority. It's like Dean just offended him with the nickname, even though he meant to say it affectionately.

"What are you doing?"

Dean finally looks down at his drink, and sees that he's already emptied half the bottle. Most of the liquor has ended up on the carpet. He'd be crying "balls" if he were Bobby. Dean nearly slams the bottle back onto the table and reaches for a nearby napkin, but then he hears a snap of fingers and turns round to find the spilled liquid gone, and the bottle mostly full.

His eyes dart towards Michael.

"...Thanks."

Michael nods.

When the archangel doesn't make a move to sit down like a regular human would, Dean points to the spare seat across from him. Michael reveals a half-pout before he settles into the chair, his body still rigid but not so much that Dean would consider it rude.

Then a thought clicks.

He was sad with being left alone, having no one to talk to, but now he does have someone, even if Michael is not his favorite acquaintance. They bicker far too often to ever come close to being friends. Michael also has a ton of arrogance inside him, less than Lucifer but enough to make Dean spite him for it.

The angel acts like he can do no wrong, and if he does, no one has the right to complain.

Still, he's Dean best choice for a drinking partner at the moment.

"Want some?"

He's only got one glass, but it doesn't mean he won't or can't share. Michael frowns.

"I don't drink."

Dean chokes on thin air.

"Seriously?"

Michael looks at him like he said something stupid.

Call it Michael's bitch-face.

"I see no value in damaging one's brain just to experience a short, fleeting moment of ignorance."

Dean tries not to form a vicious retort. He loves getting drunk. Half the time, it's what keeps him going, keeps his mind off nasty thoughts and dark memories.

"Come on, try some."

Dean offers the glass like it's a challenge.

Michael's frown hardens slightly.

"No."

Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

"Just a tiny sip."

"And what do I gain from this?"

"I'll shut up."

"I doubt you will."

It's Dean's turn to frown this time. _How dare he..._

If there's anything Dean tends to do with the archangels that is unique only to him, it's challenging them into doing considerably mundane activities. It's a shameless act, and it's mostly Gabriel who takes him up on his offers. Dean stopped challenging Lucifer into anything after he proved to be better than Dean in everything.

Even flirting.

Half the time, Michael regards him with pity and disdain, and tends to treat him like a bratty child. Hopefully, he won't do so this time and will finally accept this sweet, 1984 wine. It cost him five rounds of pool.

"Sure you don't wanna?" He tries to make himself sound suggestive, not desperate. "Come on, man! You work like there's no tomorrow." He brings the glass close to Michael's lips. "Just a sip."

Michael stares at him a little longer, before he takes the glass between his own fingers.

It doesn't end with just one sip.

* * *

"Luci's wings are fluffy."

Michael drawls, with a half-smile on his face.

The two of them have nearly emptied the bottle, and by all means, was this particular wine strong, even by Dean's standards. He can already feel a horrible hangover looming over his head, but thanks to experience with getting drunk, Dean is by no way as far gone as Michael.

The archangel has been mumbling nonsense ever since his first mouth full.

He's just downed his fourth one.

Dean wasn't expecting the plan of getting Michael drunk and happy to turn out this easy, and even if he accomplished this task, which he has, there was still concern on what type of drunk Michael would turn out to be. He could very well have started thrashing around in untamed fury, or simply pass out from the tiny sip alone.

Luckily, Michael is a talkative drunk.

 _Very_ talkative.

There's a pause, and Dean takes the moment to empty the glass himself.

"You're cute."

Dean nearly chokes, this time on the wine.

"Like, really cute."

Dean tries not to feel flattered, but he does.

"I bet your hair is soft." Michael brushes his own hair. "More than mine, at least."

Dean looks back at the eyes watching him, examining him from under the intense haze that's taken down Michael's sense of pride and I'm-better-than-you persona. In a way, it makes Michael look cute too.

And that thought tells Dean that he's not thinking straight either.

Not that he cares.

Michael's vessel truly is an eye-catcher.

Lean body, flawless skin, piercing silver eyes, jet black hair and currently inviting lips.

He's so going to Hell (again) for this.

Michael cracks a toothy grin. "Your eyes are pretty."

That's it.

Dean kisses the bottle as a sign of gratitude before planting a kiss on Michael. The archangel doesn't move, doesn't even blink, so Dean risks his life by kissing again.

Deliciously soft lips.

"...More?"

Michael pleads, with puppy-eyes for double effect, and it works wonders on Dean.

It's enough to make him hard.

Dean leans forward and slips his tongue into Michael's warm mouth, while he picks the archangel up and carries him over to the bed. They fall onto the mattress with Dean on top. When arms reach up to pull him in, Dean knows he's a lucky man today.

Screw the woman who called him unattractive, there's an archangel begging to be kissed and slept with here.

As drunk as he is, Michael is still capable of kissing back. His tongue doesn't push for dominance, but seems determined to keep their lips locked. Dean regrets having to pull away so he can breathe. The look Michael sends him is full of disappointment, but Dean removes it by diving back down into another wet kiss.

Dean does his best to strip them both. The kiss ends twice while Dean pulls off his shirt and takes off Michael's a moment later. Dean struggles most with his own trousers, but experience again saves him from total humiliation and the clothing comes off before Michael can complain.

When he pulls off Michael's purple jeans, he takes the underwear down with it.

Michael whimpers.

Once Dean has them both naked, he repositions Michael so his head is resting on the pillows. He resumes kissing by exploring Michael's jaw and collarbone. He moves down along the well-carved body until he reaches the hips, from where he takes in Michael's hardened length which induces a loud gasps.

Michael falls into a rhythmic cry of - highly erotic - mewls as Dean pumps him expertly with his mouth.

Michael's voice reaches its loudest when his orgasm hits him, and Dean's mouth fills with the sweet and unholy portion of Michael's vessel. He licks his lips at the taste and sight of a sweaty, panting archangel.

He never would have thought this day would come, but here it is.

Dean crawls up the slightly shaking form and lays gentle kisses on the cheeks until the lips open and allow him in. Michael hooks his legs around Dean and lets himself get rolled around, touched and smothered in kisses that he should be angry about, but he isn't.

The alcohol is making the whole experience extremely enjoyable for both of them.

Dean groans when he remembers the lube he keeps just in case in his duffel bag. It takes a moment to pry the needy archangel off him so he can fetch the object from the foot of the bed, and pour the contents onto his fingers.

Michael watches with wonder in his eyes as Dean brings his coated fingers in between his thighs. It's in that moment that Dean realizes Michael may have never done this before. It's safe to say then that Michael has probably stayed as far as Heaven allows from debauchery things.

He's honestly not sure how to feel about that, being the one to defile the angel.

"Dean..."

The call of his name, in such a loving voice, blows away any hesitation Dean has lingering.

It takes some time, but Dean does manage to insert one finger into Michael. He rubs and twirls his finger before attempting to add a second. He stretches and opens Michael up, all the while coaxing Michael to calm down with words he uses generally for kids when they're scared.

Dean resists going with just two, the heat surrounding his fingers tempting him so badly to just take the angel and forget everything else, but Dean isn't a rough partner. He's gentle and caring and without making a fuss, he inserts a third finger.

Michael is shaking with need at this point, hungry for Dean and wants him to be close and just looking at him makes Dean painfully hard. It's taking a lot of effort to use his fingers, only the good guy inside him is keeping the restraints up. Nevertheless, if this all goes badly it won't be Hell he'll have to fear.

Damaging an angel this way is more than just sin.

In the end, Dean succeeds in maintaining self-control and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for it. He pulls his fingers out and crawls over Michael to give the needy angel a kiss. Arms catch him around the neck while Dean lifts Michael's legs up and readies for insertion.

The noise Michael makes when he enters very nearly sends Dean over the edge.

He quickly takes deep breathes to calm himself. It's a bit overwhelming, doing it with someone so gorgeous, so vocal and so in need of Dean it makes him feel special.

Michael has never been one to overlook Dean, but he does enjoy reprimanding him and making him feel horribly inferior.

Dean always hates it when he does that.

He waits for any pain to subside before moving. The intensity of the clawing on his back and the trembling of limbs is what Dean goes by. He doesn't ask, just pays close attention for when everything becomes relaxed. Luckily, he picks the right time and the sounds that come out voice nothing but approval.

Dean pushes in and out steadily, never allowing his tip to leave the warm insides of the angel and tries to always hit the bundle of nerves he knows is there. Michael is very responsive to the feeling, his length close to bursting from sheer excitement.

Out of kindness, Dean takes hold of Michael's length with one hand and begins pumping in time with his thrusts. Only four strokes and Michael throws his head back as he comes all over Dean's hand and his stomach. The hunter licks at the coating and finds nothing but pure sweetness again.

Dean continues the thrusts and shortly after Michael is once again hard. His whole body is flushed red and his cheeks are dark, his silver eyes a new shade as pleasure overcomes him.

Again, the sight pushes at Dean's boundaries and Michael lets out another erotic scream as Dean fills his insides completely. Dean doesn't let himself drop, but gently lays on top of the warm skin as both he and Michael slowly collect their bearings.

He wouldn't mind lying around like this for a few more hours, but there's a building ache in his head, so Dean pulls out gently and cuddles Michael from behind.

His hands move towards Michael's thighs to take hold of what's been neglected, and then he pumps.

"Dean!"

There's a wide, delight-filled grin on Dean's face once he hears his name called.

The orgasm hits and Michael practically falls limp on the bed. Dean cuddles him as a half-attempt to comfort the archangel. Even though he's only wearing a vessel, Dean can feel Michael's chest expand and contract, can hear him breathing and can smell the sweat all over his skin.

Dean falls asleep only when the alcohol forces him to.

* * *

Dean thinks it's evening by the time he wakes up, since the room seems darker from behind his heavy eyelids. He notices almost immediately the lack of a warm body next to him, and then realization dawns on him.

"Dean...Winchester."

He should have known this was coming.

But how does one expect Dean to deny a dazzling young man some quality time in bed, when he was asking for it? Sure, Dean was the one who got him drunk, but the other is also an astonishingly old, celestial being. who should not have been so easy to lure into sharing a glass of wine.

Either Michael was already gone by the time he arrived, or he's just too embarrassed to admit his true feelings.

The thought tempts Dean into making the angel confess.

This is despite the fact that the archangel is currently glowering at him in cold fury, while straddling his hips and making escape absolutely impossible.

In other words, Dean has succeeded in infuriating Heaven's fiercest warrior.

Just great.

There's probably no way to appease the archangel after what he did, but Dean is determined not to show fear and instead, returns the gaze with a calm expression, topped with a wise grin. As frightening as his situation is, Dean is going to test his luck and make Michael remember just how enjoyable their time was.

He can try to deny it all he wants, but Dean won't listen.

"Hey, baby."

Dean didn't know Michael could look anymore furious, but he does.

"Are you ready to apologize for your impetuous decision? Or are you so incompetent that all you can do is think dirty thoughts?"

Dean's eyebrow twitches at the blatant attempt to insult him. Sure, going by their job titles, it was a highly inappropriate act, equivalent to a one-way ticket to Hell, but what's done is done, and hadn't Dean been gentle enough, caring enough and awesome enough in bed to warrant himself some forgiveness?

"Well? Do I need to repea-"

"Oh come on!" Dean cuts in. "You were totally into it."

Michael's eyes brighten with the enormous grace hidden behind. "I so did no-"

The hunter cuts him off with jerk of his hips, causing friction. Michael shudders from the contact. When Michael's first act is to glare at him, Dean does it again, and again. Little noises escape Michael as the rubbing of Dean's hardening cock and Michael's rear turns the angel into a quivering mess.

Dean can't help but marvel the beauty before him.

It's when Michael is like this, open and exposed, does Dean think of him as beautiful as his vessel, as desirable as his vessel. When Michael is in his usual mode, which consists entirely of doucheness, Dean can't see any good quality in him.

It also makes it impossible for Dean to feel sorry for what he did.

A few more thrusts and Michael collapses on top of Dean. Even through the clothing, Dean can feel Michael's erratic heartbeat and the hot breath that make him seem surprisingly human.

He turns his head to lay kisses on Michael's cheek, and to his delight, there is no protest. So he was right to think Michael wants this deep down, enough to succumb to the smallest provocation. Just to prove his point, Dean squeezes the angel's butt cheek.

"You wanna keep denying that?"

Michael's body quivers violently. He's probably so embarrassed he can't even produce an answer. Dean doesn't mind, and with one stroke through the smooth raven hair locks, Dean flips them over to resume with round two.

Although he never gets confirmation of Michael's true feelings, not in clear words or signs,

The archangel doesn't leave until the very end.

Dean thinks today turned out to be a marvelous Valentine's Day.

 

 


End file.
